


They're Not Your Friends

by TheZ1337



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But also that kind, Depression, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, I swear it has a happy ending, M/M, Super angsty, after grindy, not THAT kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZ1337/pseuds/TheZ1337
Summary: Percival Graves is rescued from his captivity by Gellert Grindelwald. He takes some personal time off and a young boy, Creedence Barebone reappears into his life.Note: Ok so I was really hungover and this just sort of happened. Enjoy!





	

Percival Graves was at his peak. He was Director of Magic Security at MACUSA. He was a distinguished auror who supervised at least two dozen others. Some would say he was authoritarian but he preferred to think of himself as confident. He had to be when there were so many other headstrong wizards in his department. Work was his life, he had no time for fun or personal space. His coworkers were his friends, as much as they could be but he’d enjoyed the position and all the benefits that came with it.

Now he was a shell. He’d been left in that ten foot by ten foot trunk for, well, he wasn’t sure how long. Nobody was. When they found him he’d lost all hope. Percival assumed Gellert would keep him there forever, until he succeeded in his terrible plan to bring war between the wizarding world and that of the no-maj’s. The aurors had spent hours trying to break the charms Gellert set up around Percival’s apartment; one auror had even had to go to the hospital for a magic-related malady.

He didn’t talk for hours. It wasn’t until Picquery came in to his hospital room and shut the door so it was only the two of them that he spoke. And he only spoke one question. He asked the date. When she told him, December 28th, 1926 he trembled and closed his eyes. Two years, almost to the day had been his imprisonment. He listened to her as she spoke and updated him on what had happened in that time. She gave him leave time, “as much as you need,” she’d said.

And now here he was, in his family beach home in upstate Maine. He hadn’t been back since he was a kid, but now he was and he felt safety. The home felt a bit foreign since he hadn’t spent enough time there as a kid to feel completely at home, but he’d spent enough that he remembered the squeaky floorboard by the front door. He remembered how the window of the spare bedroom where he used to sleep stuck. He remembered the wind-swept sand dunes outside, though they’d shifted since he’d been here last.

He spent sleepless nights awake on the porch, wrapped in a blanket as he stared at the sea. He received dozens of letters; Merlin’s beard, couldn’t they let a man recover? His aurors sent letters asking for guidance, asking for his opinion on the goings-on at MACUSA. The letters went unanswered.

When a tawny brown barn owl not from MACUSA showed up one morning, he fed it a brazil nut and flipped over the letter. It was from a young man named Newt Scamander; he thought he remembered the name from something Picquery had said to him in the hospital. The letter was nice, and it was the only one he kept. He asked how Percival was “ _getting along_.” He told Percival about the book he was writing on how to care for magical creatures. It was the first time Percival had smiled in months. The letter was only a paragraph long, and he closed it by letting Percival know that if he needed anything, even someone to talk to, that Newt could be reached at such and such address and would reply as expediently as possible.

Percival sat every morning in front of some clean parchment with his quill in hand, inkwell open and waiting. And he just sat there. He couldn’t find anything to write. He had everything to write. He could write a book about his time in captivity; that would allow him to retire to a quiet life. He could write letters back to all his aurors whose inquiries piled up in the trash can next to his desk. He could write to Picquery and tell her he was going back to work on Monday. He could write a lot. But each morning when he was done with his coffee he put down his quill, the tip still clean and got up from the desk, pages still crisp, clean, and white.

He went out to the beach, rolled up his pant legs and let the sand slip between his toes. He might even dip his feet in, but the water was below freezing. Ice floated off in the distance where it came down from Canada. He watched the white caps and watched the salt water lap up against the beach. How could they not have known?

He kept coming back to that question. Was he so cold, so distant that nobody had noticed the change in him? That nobody thought it was strange when he stopped drinking coffee in the morning meetings, or when he forgot the names of the aurors who’d worked with him for almost a decade? He went up through MACUSA with many of the brave men and women he supervised, he even went to school with a few of them. And nobody had noticed when he wasn’t quite himself when Grindelwald assumed his persona. Percival felt betrayed.

* * *

Picquery came to visit him two weeks in to his self-imposed isolation. She sat in her smart business suit and hair wrap at the kitchen table and he stood nearby, unsettled. “We need you,” she said gently.

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re stronger than this, than what he did to you.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Throw yourself in to your work, get out of this rut. We need the Director of Magical Security.”

“You went two years without me, I bet you could go a few weeks,” he said bitterly as he turned around.

“Mr. Graves-“

“You can’t even call me by my name! You can’t even-“he turned to her. He looked betrayed. “After all the time we spent together, all we achieved.”

“Percival-“

“Don’t.” He scoffed. She couldn’t even call him by a nickname even when he asked. He shut her out, and she left shortly after. Percival went out to the porch to watch the waves. He closed his eyes and he could see Grindelwald.

* * *

His own face sneered back at him, “On your knees like a dog,” he’d growled. Percival’s face was wet with tears and his hands were bloody. How long had he been out? A bright light above his head woke him, and he couldn’t see anything outside the circle it cast around him. But he could hear his voice, taunting him from the darkness.

“And what will they think when I walk in? I’ve been watching you for months, I even have your accent down.”

“You won’t get away with this,” he’d said and then there was the pain. To really impose the Cruciatus Curse on someone, you had to mean it. And Gellert meant every second. He left Percival a sopping mess on the floor, sweating from the exertion and crying from the pain.

* * *

Percival jerked awake and he was still in the wicker chair on the porch, except it was starting to get dark out. How long had he been asleep? He pulled the blanket around himself close, and shivered. He went inside. It was warmer inside and he went to the kitchen to make himself some soup. He hadn’t picked up his wand this entire time even though it sat on the bedside table. He didn’t want to touch it, to feel what it had done for two years away from his hands. He didn’t want to know the pain it’d caused and the havoc it had wreaked. He didn’t want the memories of that boy.

That poor boy that haunted him at night. That poor boy who was so oppressed, so abused only to lose his life in the end. And Goldstein, she’d only tried to help. He jerked awake in a cold sweat, bare chest rising and falling hard as he came out of the nightmare. He always slept with a light on but suddenly it was out. He looked around the room and reached for his wand on the bedside table. That was gone too. He sat up.

“Whose there?”

“Mr. Graves,” came the response. That voice, he recognized it. He’d never heard it before, but he recognized it regardless.

“Credence.” He said. He was suddenly pushed in to the bed, his shoulders pinned to the mattress.

“Mr. Graves, is it really you?”

“Yes Credence, I’m here.”

“What he did to you-“

“Don’t remind me.”

“He was a bad man.”

“He’s in prison now. Let me go.” Suddenly the pressure on his chest eased up. The light came back on and he hadn’t realized how silent the room had been until now. He looked over and his wand was back in its spot and he could hear the waves outside. He looked around and he was the only one there; he wasn’t sure what just happened.

* * *

In the morning he went about his normal daily schedule. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in front of blank parchment for an hour before he decided to take a walk. He walked on the beach, and this time he dipped his toes in the water. It was cold, like the hands on his shoulders the previous night. He got back up to the house and the boy was there.

“Credence?”

He was really there, flesh and blood curled in a corner, trembling. Too big for his clothes, a man with the maturity of a boy. “Credence,” Percival said again and walked to the boy who was in a corner of the kitchen. Percival pulled the blanket from his shoulders and put it around Credence since he was shivering. “Credence look at me,” he put a hand on Credence’s cheek and Credence flung his arms around Percival’s shoulders. He hugged him close and Percival was taken aback. Slowly he let his arms curl around the boy who shook against him. Percival was confused, and concerned. He put the boy on his bed to sleep and draped a blanket over him to keep him warm. Then he went back to his desk and sat down.

“ _Mr. Scamander_ ,” he wrote. “ _I received your letter. It was good to hear from you, and to hear what you’re up to. I’m sorry for the events that brought some misfortune on your visit to the United States, and I hope you return one day for a proper vacation. It’s to you I owe my freedom to, and I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I hope all is well across the pond, -Percy._ ”

He sat back, quill still in hand and re-read the letter. Then he dropped the quill back in the inkwell and got up to go to the living room. He sat down with a book and waited for the boy to wake up.

* * *

He was weak and still the pain continued. When the feeling of his skin being peeled off layer by layer stopped, he was on the cold metal again on his back. He let out a quiet groan that was met by his own delighted laughter. It echoed off the metal walls and his face came in to view. He was again splayed out in that circle of light and he rolled over to pull himself up to his knees. Grindelwald sneered.

“I have to leave again. I’ll give you some bread, but you better not be dead when I get back.”

He wasn’t sure what dark magic Grindelwald was up to. He kept threatening to bring Percival back if he died in his captivity; he mumbled about Hallows and Horcruxes, the rantings of a mad man. But he was a mad man with immense power and Percival was helpless against him. He was kicked forward onto his stomach, then raised up in the air and slammed back to the ground.

* * *

He must have drifted off again, and now that boy, Credence, he reminded himself, was standing in the doorway. He looked up and the skyline looked the same out the windows. Credence walked to him. “My boy, how did you-“

Credence got to his knees and spread Percival’s legs. Then he went to unzip Percival’s pants and Percival jerked away. He gasped in alarm and Credence pressed a warm hand against his groin. Percival was immediately awake, and he froze as Credence pulled him out of his pants. Now a days, a single small breeze was enough to make Percival half hard, so Credence’s warm hand around him stopped his desperate actions to crawl away. He groaned under Credence’s hand, and soon his mouth.

Percival sat up, pushing himself in to a sitting position before he relaxed. He groaned and put a hand up to his forehead. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d been with someone, years probably. Work had been his life. Credence looked up and saw the way Percival looked distressed but his face was slowly softening.

“You’re just a kid,” Percival muttered. He felt all sorts of sinful and wrong. Credence let his lips graze over Percival’s tip before he spoke quickly.

“I’m nineteen.”

Percival groaned and let his head fall back to rest on the back of the couch. Then Credence went back to it, and a few minutes later Percival came. Credence swallowed it all, and wanted to keep going but instead he sat back on his haunches. Percival had come silently and felt like the epitome of a two pump chump. He opened his eyes as Credence crawled up to the couch next to him. He curled up there, his head on Percival’s thigh like a pillow. Percival shoved himself back in his pants, and picked up his book again. His face was flushed, and they acted like nothing had happened.

* * *

That night Credence came to him again, but this time he wasn’t a shadow in the dark, he was solid and warm.

“You’re warm,” Credence whispered as he slipped under the covers.

“How are you even here? I know what happened, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know,” Credence whispered as he laid next to Percival. They looked at each other, arms tangled up between them. “Everything hurt. It was like thousands of splinters in me all at the same time. And then I was floating and saw the ocean and decided I wanted to go there. Then I saw you, you who- he, who hurt me, who used me.”

“He’s imprisoned, he’ll never be able to hurt anyone again.” Suddenly it was like the fog cleared. He could see the boy clear next to him, and feel his soft fingers linked with his own. Credence’s hair had grown out long, and he only realized now that he’d had it in a ponytail earlier. His face was oddly shaped but his lips were perfectly sculpted. His eyes were dark, like the darkness he’d come out of. Percival leaned forward slightly, and Credence saw Percival’s eyes search his face. He leaned in.

Their kiss was soft, a comfort they both needed. Percival raised up a hand to stroke Credence’s cheek; his lips were soft and uncertain, much more uncertain than they’d been earlier in the day. But Percival kissed him softly and guided him, his tongue not forceful as he opened Credence’s mouth wider. In one swift motion he rolled over on top of Credence and let his hand slide down his side. Credence’s skin was soft as he let his hand drop down over his ribs and over his concave stomach. He would make Credence something to eat… after this.

Credence pressed his hips up towards Percival’s hand as he slipped it below the waistband of his pajama pants. Credence let out a coy squeak and Percival broke their kiss to nip at his neck. He stroked Credence and wasn’t at all surprised at his length. He was just about Percival’s height and a robust teenager, so Percival stroked him fully erect before he slipped his hand between Credence’s thighs. He pressed his finger against Credence’s hole and whispered, “Do you ever touch yourself there?”

“Like a lady?” he whispered like it was a secret. Percival looked up and they made eye contact. “Yes,” Credence answered his own question.

Percival sat up and pushed the blankets off. He grabbed a jar of Vaseline from the bedside table drawer and slicked his fingers. Then he rolled them over so they lay facing each other again. Percival placed one of Credence’s legs over his hip and reached around him. He slicked his hole, prepping it as he ringed his finger around it. Credence breathed warm on his face for a second before Percival kissed him again.

Credence held the kiss, and held his breath as Percival slipped a finger in. Credence was tight around his finger but he was yearning. Credence was almost painfully hard; he wanted it so badly. He wanted Percival to touch him, to stroke him and wrap him up in his arms. Percival wiggled his finger in Credence to get him to relax, his finger almost long enough to hit his sweet spot. He slipped in another and again Credence tensed.

But Percival didn’t stop. He moved his fingers in and out slightly, causing a sensation for Credence he’d never felt before. He kissed Percival almost desperately, his tongue sloppy and Percival tried to reign him in. Percival finally pulled his fingers out and rolled over ontop of Credence.

“Put up your legs, here,” he helped reposition Credence with one leg around his waist, his other bent at the knee. Percival put his hand on the bed, to hold Credence’s legs open and he let his chest press against Credence’s. He put a hand down at the base of his dick and adjusted, shifted, then slipped in.

Credence gasped in shock. “Just breathe,” Percival reassured him. He pushed in further and his elbow buckled. He fell forward, his entire tip slipping in to Credence. He was burning hot and tight, better than Percival remembered this particular act.

“Mr. Graves,” Credence said and Percival looked up. Credence’s eyes were red with tears and his face looked pained.

“Credence, oh Credence,” he pulled out slowly and Credence let out a pout.

“I’m sorry,” Credence whined and Percival let his leg go. He put a hand on his cheek.

“Oh Credence no, I went too fast. I didn’t spend enough time-“

“I’m sorry, I want to.”

“No, no, shhh. Come here,” he rolled over and pulled Credence against himself. Credence wrapped his legs around Percival’s waist and he reached down again to slip in his fingers. And there he fingered Credence for a long time, until his tears were dry and he’d calmed down.

After several minutes Credence was nuzzling his face against Percival’s again and they exchanged soft kisses. Credence opened his eyes and whispered, “I think I’m ready,” he pressed his hips seductively against Percival, then back in to his fingers when he pressed them up.

“Are you sure?”

Credence nodded his head even though he was uncertain. Percival pulled out his fingers and Credence let out a quiet whine. “Here, roll over,” he said as he rolled Percival on top of him. “Sit up,” he pulled Credence’s legs so they were folded on either side of him. He lifted Credence up as best he could and positioned him over him. Credence hovered over Percival who couldn’t help but take in the sight of the young boy.

Credence’s dick was red and leaking, a small dribble leaked down the underside. He was thick and hard, and Percival could see the slight bulge of a vein along one side. He looked up to Credence who’d been watching him watch him, and Percival waited for Credence to slip down.

Credence stopped when he could feel Percival at his hole, holding himself up only with his legs.

“Relax, breathe.” And with this he slipped onto Percival slowly. He jerked like they’d gone over a speedbump and his eyes closed.

He went slow, sliding down over Percival at a snail’s pace. But two inches in, he settled and could feel Percival press up to the little bundle of nerves that he’d been touching seconds before with his fingers. Credence reached out a hand to steady himself and Percival caught it. He laced his fingers with Credence’s as Credence opened his eyes, and Percival put his other hand on Credence’s thigh.

He pulled up a bit, then dropped himself back down as he let Percival press deeper. Credence let out a quiet, long moan and he squeezed Percival’s hand. He moved up and down on Percival for a few seconds before he gasped and fell forward, and Percival caught him. “That’s it,” Percival whispered as Credence lay on his chest. Percival pressed his hips all the way up and Credence keened against him, his body now tense again as the pleasure rocked him.

It sparked up his spine and in to his gut and his moans were almost cries for release. Percival felt Credence struggle to work up a faster pace, and could feel his dick wet between them. Percival rolled them over quickly and kissed Credence one peck to quiet him. This time without prompting Credence pulled up his leg and wrapped his other around Percival.

“That’s a good boy, Credence,” Percival whispered as he let his head dip down to the crook in Credence’s neck. He wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Oh Mr. Graves,” Credence cooed back. Then Percival was touching him, and fucking him, and his mind swirled with pleasure. He didn’t know who came first, or who kept going, but all Credence knew was that he’d never felt so good in his life, not even in his dreams.

* * *

The next morning Percival wrote a letter to Picquery. He asked her to connect his fireplace to the one in his office. He told her he was ready to get back to work.

“I know you’re not the man I know,” Credence whispered over hot cocoa later. He hated coffee. “You’re so much better to me.”

Percival smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “He was using you,” Percival picked up his wand and three marshmallows floated over to Credence’s hot cocoa. They dropped in silently and Credence smiled.

“What else can you do?” He asked eagerly.

Percival thought about it before he pointed at the hot cocoa. The steam rising from it swirled in to the form of a rabbit. It hopped away, slowly dissipating as it got away from the cup. Credence laughed again and Percival smiled at him from across the table. He couldn’t ever remember being that immature. Sure, Percival had been a child once but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Just then, a small spark lit in the fireplace and it sounded like somebody striking a match. “Ah, there we are. Come, we should wash up before returning to the real world.”

“We?”

Percival stopped. He’d just assumed Credence would come with him. He looked at Credence with a questioning gaze. “If you want to, I’d like you to come with me.”

“I’d like that, yes,” he said eagerly.

* * *

Percival shaved Credence in an act of love with a straight razor and warm cream, and then shaved himself. The stubble on his chin had gotten out of control and he was glad to be fresh faced as he stood in front of the fireplace with Credence’s hand in his.

“Are you ready?” Credence asked and Percival looked at him.

“Are you?”

They stepped through the chimney with some floo powder and Percival pulled Credence close. The fireplace closed around him, they swirled through soot and ash and Credence closed his eyes tight. Credence felt crushed and could hear a sick sucking sound as they flew past other fireplaces. Suddenly Credence was being pulled out of the fireplace and he coughed as he stumbled out. Percival patted off his shoulders and was almost relieved to be in his office.

“Madam President.”

“Mr. Graves,” she smiled comfortingly as she leaned on the desk.

Credence coughed behind Percival and patted off his jacket. She raised an eyebrow and Percival stepped aside.

“That boy-“Picquery stood up, alarmed.

“He’s under my protection, he has no magic.”

“A squib?”

Percival nodded his head but Picquery still wasn’t convinced. “What are you up to Mr. Graves?”

“I want to keep him. Think about it. He was-“

“Obliviated,” she said.

“Oblivitated,” Percival said at the same time. “But he’s here, and I’m not sure how.”

“It’s very interesting,” Picquery watched Credence as he cowered behind Percival. He was used to being talked about like he wasn’t in the room but he was suddenly afraid of these two powerful wizards in front of him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Alright. I’ll allow it, for now.”

“Is Ms. Goldstein in?”

“Yes, I believe so. She’s been reinstated as an auror.”

“Can you relay a message to have her come here?”

Picquery nodded and walked to the door. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back.”

Percival smiled, “Me too.”

He sighed when the door closed and looked around. It was just how he’d left it. All the magical detection devices were stored neatly behind glass and brass cabinet doors. His reference books still sat on the edge of his desk, the leather desk mat unmarked. At least Gridelwald took care of his office.

“This office…” Credence turned slowly in a circle, his eyes open in awe. Percival turned to watch him and smiled. “You’re an important man, Mr. Graves.”

Percival chuckled. “I’m the Director for Magical Security, of course I’m important.”

Percival walked around his desk and stood behind it, his hand on the backrest of his chair. He sighed, and then the door opened. Both men looked up.

“Mr. Graves, I-“

Tina froze on the spot when she saw Credence. She stood in her normal loose suit pants and plain white shirt and Percival hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her.

“Credence,” she whispered breathlessly.

Credence turned his head to the side and seemed to recognize her. “I know you.”

She crossed the carpet and threw her arms around him in a hug. He jerked, shocked at her embrace and stood awkwardly in it. “Oh Credence, how did you survive?” She let go and looked past him at Percival for answers. He just shrugged. “You brave young man,” she put her hands on his arms and squeezed. Her eyes were brimming with tears and then she laughed once. She let her hands slide down his arms to his hands and she clasped his hands in hers.

“I know you,” he said again and Tina laughed a bit more. She was so happy she was on the verge of crying.

“Ms. Goldstein?” Percival said.

Tina looked up and let go of Credence’s hands. She stepped to the side and Credence stared at her. He remembered her from the subway, and he remembered her comforting voice but he wasn’t sure from where.

“Yes Mr. Graves?”

“You have a sister, don’t you?”

“Yes Mr. Graves. Queenie, she’s a secretary assistant here.”

“Would you and your sister like to come for dinner?”

“Oh,” her tears dried up and she stood up a bit straighter. “Um, yes, that-that would be nice.”

Percival smiled kindly. “Wonderful.” He scribbled down his address on the top page of the stack of clean parchment on his desk. He walked around his desk and handed it to Tina. “Friday night, seven o’clock?”

“That sounds great, Mr. Graves. We’ll be there.”

“Excellent, excellent.”

She went to leave; she knew his tone enough to know when she was being dismissed. She stood at the door and turned, “And Mr. Graves?”

He perked up.

“It’s great to have you back,” she gave him an earnest smile which he returned.

“It’s great to be back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a [tumblr](https://thez1337.tumblr.com/), feel free to stop by and say hi or drop me a drabble


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